


out to the mountains (down to the riptide)

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 15:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2197050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>still most nights you dream about her bright eyes and of sunsets in the mountains;<br/>you always did have a weakness for shiny things and broken people</p>
            </blockquote>





	out to the mountains (down to the riptide)

 

 

 

 

when you were younger, maybe eight or nine years old, you used to have a swing-set

and if you swung high enough, you could see the mountains beyond the brown shingles on the roof of your house

"someday we'll run away," she says, swinging along at your side and you believe her just like always

you used to have a father, too, but both he and the swing-set have long since disappeared

 

 

and she's so beautiful

far too pretty for someone like you

always moving, jumping, running, dancing towards nowhere in a bleak night sky

littered with shooting stars, falling stars, and you wonder what it feels like to burn

 

 

she has bright eyes, has for years now, constant energy half-born off too much medication

her hair is like fire in the honey-golden light moving, twisting, writhing as she runs

and you're left behind, but only a little, even though she's so much faster than you are ( _"let's go have an adventure!"_ )

her eyes are happy when she looks back, towards you and your hand-me-down clothes

 

 

now you're growing up, far too fast and not fast enough

not fast enough to run away from this asphyxiating town and never look back

but your body is changing, twisting and moulding itself into uncomfortable rigid shapes you've come to despise

and you can't love yourself anymore, never have, but you can pretend just for her

 

 

you try so hard at everything, and she does not - "hey, it's alright, maybe Mrs. James just doesn't like you"

sometimes you hate her for it

for being carefree and beautiful when you feel so wrong inside but still you love her

and you hate yourself for that, too

 

 

she starts wearing makeup when she turns fourteen, and, in secret, you do too

you nick some of your mother's mascara/eye shadow/blush and buy some lipstick at the store "for my girlfriend"

it looks awful, really, but it makes you feel so pretty

and yet so shattered on the inside

 

 

it's wrong, so very wrong, and you know that

so although it hurts more than anything you decide to keep yourself a secret

still most nights you dream about her bright eyes and of sunsets in the mountains;

you always did have a weakness for shiny things and broken people

 

 

the real world is bright and cruel

but make-pretend is so much better, so much worse

full of sick illusions and things you wish were true

it's a dark paradise but you can't help walking inside and slamming the doors behind you

 

 

maybe if you were a real man she could be yours, and maybe if you were a real woman you could be hers

but she's far too pretty for someone like you, of course,

parties and boys and kissing girls

all sorts of things that timid quiet you would never dream about "but you do sometimes, don't you?"

 

 

you love the way she smokes her cigarettes and how the smoke curls through the air

acrid, heavy, bitter and oh so perfectly sweet

you try it once to feel what it feels like, but your hands shake and the flames bite at your fingers

the taste lingers on your tongue afterward, and you wonder if she would too

 

 

the summer you turn seventeen, you climb into her rusted crimson pick-up truck and drive out to the mountains

she's got her sunglasses on, one hand on the steering wheel and one dangling out the window

you're both singing along to the something on the radio and nothing has ever felt so perfect

you tell her so, and she asks you to run away with her ( _"maybe next time"_ )

 

 

the truth slips out when you're eighteen, on a stormy day at one a.m. and you are terrified

but she just looks at you and laughs and her eyes are shining bright like little stars in the darkness

Then she kisses the corner of your mouth and takes your hand and pulls you out into the rain

"let's go have an adventure!"

 

 

she smiles at you under broken fragments of starlight, piercing the black night sky as well as your heart

mirror-thin shards of something that could have been, could still be

they cut your feet as you move, jump, run, dance beside her

and you leave nothing but bloody footprints behind

 

 

she's so beautiful, much prettier than you but still a perfect fit

"no more pretending," she says and so you fold up your disguises in a dusty old closet and you leave them behind

you drive out to the mountains you saw from your swing-set so long ago

and you believe her just like always

 

 

* * *

 

_finis_

__

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading.  
> comments and/or kudos are extremely encouraged <3


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